Drifting
by seekingtomorrow
Summary: Asami saw the tilt of Mako's eyebrows in Korra's skeptical glance and the casual shrug of Bolin's shoulders in her body language; even Aang's awkward smile made its appearance when she was nervous. "I want you to be happy." Pacific Rim AU.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **First LoK fic so apologies for any OOC-ness. This is my first time writing these characters so I'm just trying to get a feel for them. Also, Korrasami is ruining my life in the best possible way.

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><p>Korra, Asami had told her superiors, wasn't in any shape to operate a Jaeger by herself after the traumatic events following the attack on Republic City. She needed time to recuperate, she had argued, and time to find a co-pilot because even if nobody was entirely Drift-Compatible with the infamous Avatar, capable of shouldering a neural load meant for two, it was still too taxing for her on her own.<p>

Korra disagreed because Korra was Korra, but Asami wasn't sure if that meant anything anymore.

Asami saw the tilt of Mako's eyebrows in Korra's skeptical glance and the casual shrug of Bolin's shoulders in her body language; even Aang's awkward smile made its appearance when she was nervous. The steel in her jaw Asami observed in Chief Beifong staring down her recruits from her perch in the Kwoon. Asami's seen her solid stance, feet shoulder-width apart and strong, in grainy photos of a woman named Kyoshi, and her wild bedhead in a man named Wan.

The Drift, her father had told her when they'd still been on good terms, does funny things to a person. In a fight, your mind suddenly became your strongest ally, melding you to another and to the body of a giant robot, but outside of battle, could easily become your greatest enemy. Lines blurred outside the Drift and with that sense of imbalance came doubt.

"Korra?" Asami rapped on the steel door sharply, the muted sound echoing in the empty hall. There was no reply, so Asami knocked again.

"She's not in her room."

Recognizing the voice, Asami's lips curled downwards. "Mako."

The boy—a _man_, she had once called him—stared at her with golden eyes that seemed to glint in the low lighting. Shadows curled and made their home in the jaunt of his cheekbones and the deep bags beneath his eyes. He looked old, older than the boy they'd recruited so long ago, shining and bright with the desire to save the world.

"Korra isn't here."

"Where is she?" Once, Asami had gazed at him with all the adoration in the world, leaning into his embrace and brushing kisses to unshaven cheeks, but those days were past and Asami's diary filled with sketches of Jaegers and calculations instead of swirly hearts.

"I'm not at liberty to tell you," Mako replied. "She's not feeling well right now and the last thing she needs is company."

"For someone who once Drifted with Korra, you apparently know nothing about her," Asami snapped back. At Mako's start, she sighed. "I'm sorry for snapping. I'm not feeling too great either."

Mako nodded tersely. "Join the club."

Asami chuckled, but it felt hollow, even to her ears. "I'm going to go see if I can find her in the cafeteria." She turned around, but felt a hand wrap around her wrist.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" The fingers around her wrist shook slightly and Asami knew what was coming before Mako had even uttered the words.

"About us."

Asami breathed out slowly, gently untangling her hand from the boy's grip as he looked at her with an unreadable expression. "There is no us anymore," she said softly.

"Look, if this is about Korra, we're both sorry for what happened and I just—"

"I'm not blaming either of you," she cut him off. Shoving her hands into her pocket, she felt the corner of a tiny weathered notebook brush her fingertips. The bridge of the palm-sized journal was nearly falling apart, but the value of its contents—pages and pages of ideas and half-scribbled calculations—far outweighed its outwards appearance. If Asami had been less humble, she would have supposed her notebook was a lot like her. "Mako, we're in the middle of a war. I don't have time for anything other than this."

She turned from the boy, intent on heading towards the mess hall in the hopes of finding Korra, when Mako's voice broke her reverie.

"She's in the Kwoon."

Asami gave him a rare smile. "Thank you, Mako."

The Kwoon was a large room that had probably once been grand, but had deteriorated to the point where its only suitable use was as a training facility for recruits. Large mats usually covered the floor, though Asami knew from personal experience that they did little to break your fall.

As she approached the arched doorway, she heard grunts and the sound of feet hitting the floor. With steps slow and soft, she peered around the doorframe and saw Korra twirl a staff before bringing it down to the ground in a loud _thwack _that reverberated in the empty room.

Korra's style of fighting was as beautiful as it was deadly. Her speed was incredible, form flickering like an open flame as she moved between poses with a fluid grace Asami had only ever read about. Each hit she landed on an invisible opponent was solid and confident, her stance shifting to accommodate her weight, but she also managed to remain weightless and light on her feet, changing her style to fit the flow of the fight.

And suddenly, she faltered and though Korra quickly righted herself, Asami knew that the fight was lost. With an angry roar, Korra threw the staff away from her, letting it snap against the wall before clattering to the ground. She sank down to her hands and knees, chest heaving as her forehead touched the ground.

Asami approached tentatively with the same caution she would use when approaching a wild animal. Kneeling next to the girl, she put a hand on her shoulder, feeling warm muscle flinch beneath her palm. "It's just me."

Korra looked up with wide eyes. "Asami?" She relaxed into the older girl's hold, letting her forehead rest on Asami's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Asami wrapped her arm around Korra. She had never seen the girl like this. In the Jaeger, Korra had always projected nothing but confidence in her skills. Even in the most dire of situations, she never failed to meet the situation head-on, even at the risk of her own safety. Asami saw none of that in the girl before her, whose childlike gaze made her heart clench tightly for some reason.

Korra didn't respond, but her hand moved to cover Asami's.

"What happened in the Earth Kingdom wasn't your fault. None of us were equipped to deal with a Category IV and you did the best you could do, which is all we ask for. It's not your fault, Korra."

Korra nodded slowly; rebellious strands of hair escaped her high ponytail and brushed against Asami's cheek. With her free hand, she pushed them behind Korra's ear and resumed stroking her back.

"You shouldn't have to do this by yourself," Asami continued softly. "I know you can," she said at Korra's sudden petulant look, "but I've seen what Drifting alone too many times can do to a person. You've Drifted with others before so it won't be like you have to learn from scratch."

"We all love you," Asami said, ignoring the telltale red that stole across her cheeks as Korra's grip on her hand minutely tightened, "and we want you to be happy. _I _want you to be happy."

Korra pulled back and stared into Asami's eyes with a searching look. There was nothing of anyone else in her gaze, Asami noted; her blue eyes were clear and expressive and entirely _Korra_. Curiosity apparently sated, she let her head drop back down onto Asami's shoulder.

"I am happy," she mumbled into the harsh cloth of regulation uniforms. "Not always. Right now, I'm happy."

"I'm glad," Asami whispered and pressed a kiss to the crown of Korra's hair. She felt the weight of her notebook in her pocket again and could see the dimensions of her own drivesuit in her mind's eye. Korra would be okay. Asami would make sure of it.


End file.
